Long-Distance Painkillers (Should Totally Be A Thing)
by DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: In which Clint can't convince his leg it isn't broken, can't watch Dog Cops, can't make soup, can't do lots of things - and all Bucky can do is tell him about the aliens. Talking about aliens helps.


**AN:** Originally posted on Tumblr as a feel-better fic for sara_holmes, who at the time was in a similar state to poor Clint. If anyone else has been having a sucky day, hope this makes you feel a tad better, even for just a minute :-)

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Long-Distance Painkillers (Should Totally Be A Thing)

The stupid dialling tone got on Clint's nerves after one ring. If it wasn't such an important video call he was making he'd have taken his hearing aids out, but he wanted to be ready for this. He adjusted himself on the couch, wondering again if he could trick his leg into thinking it wasn't broken long enough for a fresh mug of coffee, but before idiocy could win out the tone cut off and his laptop screen changed.

The pixels smoothed out as Bucky smiled, and Clint felt himself grinning right back. "Hi," he said, managing not to sound giddy.

"Hey," Bucky returned. Exhaustion coloured his voice and shaped his shoulders, but his eyes were alert and the smile lingered on his face. "How's the leg? Kinda surprised to see you in the same spot I left you."

"You do realise I've had to get up to pee, don't you?" Clint pointed out, then shrugged. "Otherwise, yeah, I've been stuck here. Dumb leg still hurts to move and I'm running out of ways to entertain myself."

On the screen, Bucky made a sympathetic noise. "Finished Dog Cops already?"

Clint hesitated. "… No."

"No? How come?"

For a moment he debated lying and telling Bucky he'd gotten bored of the show, but after realising that distance and a computer screen had no bearing on Bucky's ability to see through his bullshit he gave up and sighed. "Today's kind of sucked," he admitted. "I dropped the TV remote and then kicked it under the couch trying to pick it back up, so I can't select the next episode of Dog Cops. I tried to balance my good leg when I went to the toilet, but the painkillers hadn't worn off so I wasn't so good and… missed the bowl a bit. And I burnt the soup you left. And I've forgotten where I put the painkillers. And I'm bored out of my skull." He swallowed. "And I miss you."

Bucky looked full of sympathy as he said, "Oh, Clint. I know R&R's never been your strong suit, but now I wish I'd stayed."

Immediately, Clint shook his head. "Don't say that. The team needs you more than I do. One more person saving the world." Bucky said nothing but appeared to accept what they both knew was true. "How's that going anyway?" Clint asked, desperate to talk about anything other than his car-crash of a day.

"Not awfully," was Bucky's answer as he dragged his metal hand down his face. "We've had help in the last few countries, and we're on our way to Japan now. According to Stark, the the alien count there's lower than the last few groups we encountered, so we think there might already be someone tackling the situation; in which case, we'll wrap things up as quick as we can and head home once cleanup's underway."

"Any idea how long that'll take?"

He raised and dropped his hands. "A few hours is all I can say. I'm sorry."

Clint refrained from pouting. "That's okay," he said. "What are they like? The aliens."

"Uh… They're roughly the size of a cow, kinda pale blue with pink legs, and they're this weird insect-y kind of crab-like fusion."

"Really? Do they move sideways?"

"They move all ways. Some even fly."

"Cool."

"Really not."

Clint chuckled. "Killability?"

Rolling his eyes, Bucky said, "I don't know - six, seven? They're slightly armoured but they blow up pretty spectacularly, as Thor found out. Though they like throwing their spit at us, and it's green and smelly, so apologies if I haven't been able to shower before I get back."

"Understandable," Clint said, shifting on the couch again. His leg twinged at the knee. "At least one of us is doing something useful."

"Clint, resting a broken leg -"

"Is useful to me, I know, but I want to be out there blowing up aliens!"

Laughing, Bucky said, "You wouldn't be saying that if you were here."

"Whatever - look, come on Bucky, I'm vicariously enjoying myself right now."

"At my expense, you mean."

"Have I not told you what an amazing job you're doing yet?"

He could see Bucky trying not to smile, and the satisfaction when he failed at that was one of the best feelings Clint had had all day. "Alright," Bucky said, leaning his elbows on the desk and getting comfortable. "What would you like to know?"

They talked for another couple of hours - about the aliens, about Dog Cops, about food places they hadn't tried yet, about how Clint could retrieve the lost TV remote, about how many painkillers it was acceptable for him to take at once, and many more things. Occasionally, the others would stick their heads on screen or wave from the background: Sam was upset because he no longer had eyebrows, Carol complained about having alien spit drying in her hair, and Steve was full of praise for the local emergency services of each country who'd risked their lives to help civilians and the team. It made Clint a little sad, but when Natasha mentioned how dull the comm link was with just Tony making jokes and quips over it, he was mildly reassured that his presence was both noticeable and missed.

"We're almost at Japan," Bucky said eventually. "Think I'll have to sign off."

"Oh…" Clint knew it had been inevitable, but even so, the thought of going back to being alone in the apartment was not one he welcomed.

As if he could read his mind, Bucky told him he had a suggestion for him; "It's nothing big, but it might keep your mind occupied for a short while."

"Yeah?"

"Is the newspaper on the coffee table still?" It was. "It should have a crossword in it. Why don't you see how many rude words you can fit into it?"

Clint stared at him. "Are you serious?"

Bucky huffed. "Apparently."

"That's… I might do that. Thanks, Buck. Really."

"Don't mention it. Though next time, I'm buying you a colouring book."

"What do you mean next -" Bucky gave him a look. "It might not be my leg next time."

"No, it might be your head."

"Or my arm!"

"Which you'll still have to rest either way, so colouring book." He glanced at something off-screen as Clint grumbled about him not having enough faith in Clint's injury-avoiding skills. "I really do have to go now."

Clint frowned. "Okay."

"I'll call you when we're on our way back, okay?" Clint nodded, and Bucky smiled at him. "Get that crossword done, get some sleep, and I'll be back before you know it. I love you."

"Love you, too. Wait!" he added quickly as Bucky reached forward. "Can I have a kiss?"

Bucky blinked. "You mean… you want me to blow you one?"

"No, just gimme a kiss. Look." And to show Bucky what he meant, he picked up his laptop and kissed the camera lightly. "See?"

With a (fond, Clint imagined) shake of his head, Bucky looked over his shoulder before leaning across the desk and pressing his lips to the camera too, wiping away the lingering mark with his thumb. He sat down, clearing his throat. "Don't tell anyone I did that," he said, putting on his old Winter Soldier glare. But Clint, being immune to such a look when it suited him, just laughed.

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 **AN:** Has anyone else seen _The Martian_? Because I may have slightly incorporated a certain part of that into the fic... (seriously though how could I not that was the second most adorable moment of the whole damn film!)


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